Siren in Stockings

The feeling was like nothing she had experienced before in her life. It charged her body with a sense of fluidity that felt as though she were being turned into supple clay while stimulating her to the point of physical excitement at the prospect. Agnes truly believed in that moment that if she had not fought to hold herself together, she might have simply lost her form entirely and melted into a formless liquid of pure and liberated pleasure.

It was the realisation that the intense heat of the experience was building in her lower body that finally made her open her eyes and glance downwards. Agnes stared at her legs in a half dazed state and watched as the living flesh began to shift and change before her eyes. Perhaps an inch below her vagina the skin of her legs pulled together and simply merged into one, creating a single limb.

If watching the transformation was a strange experience for Agnes, feeling it happen to her own body was far more so. As her flesh shifted and reformed, she felt everything without a moment of pain and could do nothing but simply watch in silence as her body changed more and more with each passing second.

When the merging of the limbs reached her stockings, they were not pushed downwards with the motion of the transformation. Instead they seemed to almost imperceptibly ripple for a fraction of a second before they were simply absorbed into the new shape of her legs. The texture and colour of the stockings sank into the surface of her skin and became continuation of the curving shape.

Soon the merging of Agnes's legs reached her knees and she raised what was left of the two limbs into the air to watch the changes as they happened. But her knees proved to be no more of an obstacle than her hips had and they soon sank into one another as her calves followed moments later. Once the change reached her ankles, Agnes felt her feet being forced into alignment with her legs and she was soon staring at the tips of her toes as they too merged together.

But the change did not stop there; something in her unconscious mind told her that it was not yet over.

Agnes was proved right when she felt an odd sensation of pressure in the sides of what had until recently been the sides of her feet and her toes. She heard a sound something like nylon being pulled over skin and saw a broad growth emerge from either side of her new limb. These quickly grew in a motion that was somewhat akin to a sail opening or a fan being unfurled, spreading out until they extended a good two and a half feet from the point where her feet had been.

She pointed the new growths upwards and realised that they were joined in the centre and moved in a slow, gently swaying motion reminiscent of movement under the water.

It was then that she realised what the growth was.

A tailfin, sprouting from the end of a tail...or to be more precise, her own tail.

Agnes was amazed to realise that the patterns on the tailfin were swirls and knots of lace, almost identical to those that banded the point where the tail began across her thighs. She had seen many images of mermaids in her time and been shown costumes in her line of work, but she had never even contemplated the idea of a tail that seemed to be formed of nylon and decorated with lace.

She was sure that she should have been more worried than she was at that moment, but instead she found that all she could do was look at her strangely altered reflection in the mirror.

She was a mermaid.

There was no way to avoid the fact; she had been turned into a mermaid and her tail seemed to be made of the stocking she had been wearing when the change took her.

Agnes had never really given much thought to mermaids in general; she had seen the films and come across them in the media. Perhaps she had thought they were cute when she was younger, but there was no way that she had ever entertained a wish to be one.

Or was there?

She loved the attention, revelled in the chance to show off her curves on her own terms and was amused by the idea of wrapping others around her fingers with her charms. Was not that what a mermaid was supposed to do in all the legends and fairy tales? Charming sailors from rocks was not high on her list of priorities, but was the idea of a mermaid limited to such narrow confines?

The idea was almost too ridiculous to consider, but could the pearl have been magical?

What's on the scale of ridiculous, Agnes chided herself, when the scale's being totted up by a mermaid?

Then she recalled the thought that had been uppermost in her mind just before the transformation had begun. She had thought of herself as a siren, so had the pearl simply tapped into that mental image and transformed her as a result?

Agnes began to run a bath without thinking as her mind raced.

Was this where the whole idea of a mermaid came from? Perhaps this was a power common to all black pearls, to see into the minds of women and transform them as a result of their passions. Had these pearls washed ashore in past ages, or been found by divers and from there into the hands of women who dwelled on the shores of the oceans? If they had seen into the depths of desire in those long dead women, touched their passions and inflamed their bodies, what would they have seen but the images of sleek fish and graceful dolphins as a metaphor of their physical needs.

Had those first mermaids been such women, transformed by the magic of a black pearl into a creature half human and half aquatic?

Did the pearls retain the memory of the women they had been possessed by and changed?

Now that one had fallen into the hands of a modern woman, had it simply responded to her declaration that she was a siren and changed her accordingly?

Agnes realised that in her own mind it would not have found the simple, primal images of ancient times but rather more complex thoughts of lingerie and the fine art of teasing. Where the mermaids of old would have grown scales and lured their prey to the rocks where they sang, this one would seduce with the flash of satin and the hint of impish enticement. Searching her unconscious mind, the pearl had done as best it could to reconcile the two things and in the end reached a compromise.

With the bath full, she slipped off the dressing gown and unhooked her bra before sliding into the water and feeling the sensation as it soaked her tail. Water cascaded over the side of the tub, but Agnes took no notice as the new experience of her changed form took hold. Her hands roamed over the new textures and shapes of her tail and fingers found their way to her exposed vagina as the sensual appetites that seemed to be a natural element of a mermaid's nature slowly seized her mind.

Suddenly there was a rapping at the door.

Agnes was shaken from her reverie and rudely reminded of the hapless courier, still waiting outside and ignorant of what was going on inside the bathroom.

"Are you okay in there?" Mitchell's voice sounded worried despite the effects of the door between them. "There's water seeping under the door."

"It's okay," she shouted, "the sink just ran over."

"Okay," there was all of a sudden a strange quality to his voice, as though his words were being read off a script with no real conviction, "the sink just ran over."

"Mitchell," Agnes was oddly aware of the responses he was giving before he spoke, "are you alright?"

"I'm alright."

She screwed her face up in thought for a moment before speaking again.

"Mitchell," this would answer her question, "you're a talking, purple elephant."

"I'm a talking, purple elephant."

Agnes supposed that some of the legends had to be true, so why not the tale that sirens were able to bend mortal men to their will with the power of their voices?

There was no hiding the fact that this had potential to make her current predicament a little less drastic than she had first thought. If she could command poor old Mitchell out there simply by using the power of her voice then she might be able to just tell him that he had not seen a mermaid in a bathtub and get him to disappear back off on his rounds. Longer term she really had no idea what she was going to do, but in the here and now she had a plan to make things a whole lot easier for herself.

"Come in and give me a hand," she called.

A moment later the door opened and Mitchell stared down at the sight of a mermaid, reclining in the bath and ashamed in no way, shape or form about the fact that she was naked save for her shining black tail.

Agnes noted that although Mitchell did seem to be under the effects of a spell cast by her voice, his expression was not that of a stunned animal by any means. She could tell by the way he was looking at her that the effects must have been limited to his ability to reason on a higher level as his more base instincts were reacting just as she would have expected them to under the circumstances.

"I'm tired," she was surprised that she almost pouted the words, "I don't want to walk to the bedroom...carry me?"

Mitchell said nothing, but made his way across the small room and plunged his arms into the water. He scooped the mermaid up and carried her out into the apartment, heedless of the water that soaked him and rained onto the floor.

Agnes was still shocked from the way in which she had asked to be removed from the tub. She had wanted to be deposited on the leather couches in the sitting room, but the words had refused to come out in any other way. Now that she was being carried in his arms, the same impulse was getting stronger all the time. She found herself wrapping one arm around Mitchell's neck, while the other stroked his chest, the hand undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. At the same time she could not help breathing into his ear, so close that her lips brushed against his skin.

Was this the other side of the coin as far as being what was known as a mermaid?

It seemed that she could wrap another person around her little finger with the shape of her body and the power of her voice, but there was no way that she could stop herself now. Deep down, Agnes knew that whatever she had set in motion with the idea of flirting for amusement had been turned into something far more serious by the forces that her new from possessed. She had gone too far and there was no turning back.

Inside the bedroom, he lowered her onto the covers, neither of them concerned for a moment as the mermaid's still wet body soaked the bedclothes beneath her. By this time she had stripped him of his shirt and he completed the job, not caring where anything landed in his haste to hold her again.

Agnes raised a hand to stop him for a moment and pulled herself backwards up the bed until she was able to reach a drawer and rummage inside. He waited obediently as she retrieved a condom and handed it to him with a nod. The spell did not seem to have affected either of their deep seated common sense and the sheath was soon rolled over his erect penis.

He did not enter at first, but instead simply brushed her vagina with the head. The feeling was light and filled with intent of what might follow this first attention, as though he had managed to turn the instinct to flirt and tease around on her for a moment. Agnes felt the helpless desire she had been building in him as he tormented her and she arched her body towards him, trying to catch his member, but to no avail.

They kissed lightly, lips mirroring the delicate contact between their genitals and the very tips of tongues passing, but never delving. Occasionally he would turn his attention to her delicate breasts, fingers stroking and cupping them as if enchanted by the fact that he could cover them with the breadth of his palms and yet be aroused by their femininity.

Agnes was satisfied for a while to be the object of his attentions, petted and flattered by the manner in which he attended to her body. But soon she felt her appetites rising and knew that she would not be content to take a passive role for much longer.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gently pushed him sideways with the weight of her body. He complied and allowed himself to be guided onto his back as she turned herself over and crawled across his body, her tail pressing down on him as she did so. Once he was where she wanted him, with his back against the pillows, Agnes began to climb him an inch at a time. What might have been an easy task for a human was a considerable effort for a mermaid who lacked legs to brace herself as she climbed. Agnes was forced to rely on sheer strength and the contours of his body to make her progress, not that the experience of being climbed by her was anything but a pleasure for him.

Finally she placed her hands on his shoulders and arched her body, lowering herself onto his penis almost as slowly as she had climbed his own body. For a time it seemed that the sensation would never end as her own weight sank the length of his member into her body. Agnes was no stranger to this act, but the effect of her transformation had rendered the whole experience and every feeling it inspired like a euphoric drug and she felt each movement as she never had before.

She felt his hands grip her buttocks just above the margin of her tail and his thighs take her weight as they began to move together. Afterwards she could not have said how long they managed to hold the position, but she would not have complained if the thing had lasted for so long she had been frozen in place like a statue. She was sure that she climaxed there, bent like a bow and braced with her tail against his legs.

Afterwards she curled her back against his chest and lay still, expecting to sleep.

But she was surprised to feel his penis slipping between her buttocks and finding her once again, his instinct revealing that the transformation had left her vagina as accessible from behind as in front. Agnes was drowsy now and in no mood to reject his renewed attentions, so she simply submitted to them instead, lazily allowing him to stroke her body and wrap his legs around her tail as he tried to cling as long as he was able to the experience of making love to an exquisite mermaid.

When he was spent, she turned and commanded him again.

"Mitchell," he was awake and alert at once.

"Yes?"

"Get dressed and let yourself out of the apartment."

Agnes watched as he obeyed her orders. She knew that it was callous to simply throw him out after she had used him like a vibrator, but he had hardly hated the experience and she needed to think what her next step would be. He was done sooner than she expected and before he turned towards the door, she called out to him.

"Mitchell."

"Yes?"

"Give me your mobile."

He handed the phone to her silently.

"You won't remember a thing about this afternoon, not where you were or what happened," she was keying something into the phone as she spoke to him. "Until you hear your mobile ring and see that the call is from...Black Tail."

Agnes handed the phone back to him and he left without another word.

What she had done amounted to keeping him around for when she was in the mood for some attention, but she could live with exploiting him so long as she was sure he was getting something out of the deal as well.

For some reason, once she was alone the panic about becoming a mermaid did not seize her as she thought it would. She soon saw the reason when she looked down and saw that her legs were slowly returning to normal, the tights becoming mere lingerie once more and the tailfin disappearing into her redefined feet.

A quick tug and yelp confirmed that the black pearl was still firmly stuck in place.

She lifted the surface of the tights and wondered to herself; would the tail appear if she were naked? For some reason she thought not, convinced that her transformation had been so closely tied to her love for such sensual clothing.

But she was sure that it could not be limited to just those stockings alone.

Suddenly her wardrobe had become something more than a collection of outfits; it now had a new world of possibilities and she was potentially the first mermaid in history capable of changing her scales with the seasons.